Puzzle
by parisFish
Summary: To everyone else, she was infallible, strong, unstoppably brilliant. But he knew her flaws. He knew she wasn't always so brave. He knew that she could be tired and sad, and that somehow made her even more beautiful.


These are the nights where I feel like I truly understand her.

I peer through the space between books in the library shelves. She's sitting in her little alcove, the one by the window that's nearly hidden from view. The library is deserted tonight, and I can tell she's relieved. She's gazing out of the window with the most forlorn expression on her face. She's tired. The dark circles under her eyes validate that. This is the only time she lets it show, though. This is her only solace, her only place to let out any sign of weakness.

During the day, she commands the castle's respect. She's brilliant. She answers every question correctly and achieves highest marks on every assignment. She completes her work ahead of time and puts more effort into it than anyone else, including myself. She tutors the younger years in her spare time and even helps Potter and Weasley scrape passing grades. She studies _ages_ in advance for exams and hardly misses a point. She's the most studious person I've ever met.

During the day, she's strong. She defends her friends and the younger students. She accepts that awful word about her heritage without so much as a flinch, even when it comes from me. She bites back when someone picks an argument with her. She stands up for what she believes in. She doesn't take things lying down. I've never seen her run away from anything, not even when _I_ wanted to.

During the day, she smiles. She smiles when Potter catches the Snitch or does something that everyone thinks is _heroic._ She smiles when Weasley tells a lame joke or talks with food in his mouth. She smiles when one of the children she tutors learns something new. She smiles when Weaselette gushes to her about some new fling. She smiles when she gets a question right in class. She smiles when she goes to visit Hagrid. She smiles both when she's expected to and when she actually is happy, but by now I've learned to distinguish the two.

During the day, she supports everyone else. She takes on their burdens and lightens the weight on their shoulders. She solves all of the mysteries that Potter ends up getting credit for, though nobody knows that. She never hesitates to help someone, whether that means listening to them jabber on about Merlin-knows-what or perfecting their technique on a charm. She gets little recognition or gratitude for the things that she does, but she never complains.

I don't know how she does it. I don't know _why_ she does it. Why does she have to be the best? Why does she have to be the one supporting people? Why can't they help her for once? Maybe she feels she has something to prove. Maybe Weasley has helped shape that idea by not noticing she's a girl. Maybe Potter's helped shape that idea by not giving her recognition for the amazing things she can do. Maybe I've helped shape that idea with my constant name-calling.

Who is actually responsible for her personality, I don't know. But I do know something that Potter and Weasley don't. I know that she isn't always perfect.

Here, in the back corner of the library, she's weak. She shuts the world out and gets lost in herself. She lets her walls crumble and her fears leak through. She allows herself to have a human moment, rather than keeping up her perfect façade. She lets her worries and dark secrets wash over her and pull her under. She lets herself be tired. She lets herself be sad.

I love to see her this way. Not for the reason most would think. Everyone thinks I hate her. Even she believes it. They would all believe I like seeing her vulnerability because it makes her an easy target for the snide comments I'm known for. No, I like seeing her this way because I can identify with it. It makes her relatable, somehow possibly attainable. It makes the puzzle a bit easier to put together.

She sighs softly, tearing me from my thoughts. She gathers her books and slowly slides them into her bag, even though she didn't get any work done. She stands up and pushes her chair in, slinging her bag over her shoulder. With one last lingering glance out of her window, she leaves.

Yes, it's safe to say that, despite the fact that we hardly exchange anything other than insults, I can truly understand her.

* * *

**Hi everyone, it's me. I know I've been MIA forever, and it's completely inexcusable. I thought I'd write something to let you know I haven't completely dropped FF. _Seventeen Reasons,_ as you've probably guessed by now, is on a major hiatus. I can't find it in me to connect the current chapter to the events in the ones a few down the road. Once I've figured it out, I promise I'll update. I hope that will be soon, but in all honesty, I feel like I've lost my character. I'm trying to find Lily again, and when I do, you all will be the first to know.**

**But yeah, this is just a little Dramione oneshot that I wrote a while ago. I found a prompt on another site and decided to try it out. You can thank the lovely Olivia Wolfe (go check her out, she's awesome!) for making me actually upload it. Okay, I think that's all for now. I hope to upload something again soon! Thanks to those who are still holding out on _Seventeen Reasons._**

**Love, Paris**


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